Giving Up and Giving In
by Jessica L. Pearson
Summary: donna wonders if maybe, just maybe, harvey is cheating on her [au: casual conversations at night / swimming in the ocean / sunlight comes in the shades]


_Same universe as other random, domestic oneshots. Please review. Super angsty and gross topic but I felt like I just had to get it out there into the open and let this live._

* * *

"Are you cheating on me?"

He isn't even all the way into the condo before he hears her question. He hasn't even seen her face yet, not since she left exactly at 4pm to pick up their daughter and come home. His eyebrows furrow in response as he closes and locks the front door.

He clears his throat as he walks down the short corridor, more surprised to see her perched on a stool at the island with a glass of wine in front of her than anything. She hasn't been drinking much for the last year. He sets his keys on the counter beside her, still trying to decide if he should merit her question with any kind of response.

He finds the question utterly ridiculous. "Hello to you, too," he says by way of ignoring her. He leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek, but she stops him before he can succeed.

She looks at him expectantly. "Are you?"

"What kind of ridiculous question is that?" He counters evenly.

Her gaze narrows at him. "It isn't all that ridiculous, given how we started."

"That's different," he insists immediately.

Her fingers turn white as she pinches the stem of the glass tighter. "How?"

"Because it was you. I was in love with you," he reasons. He sighs then, the constant struggle digging contours into his face where they didn't used to be. She shakes her head like she doesn't believe there's a difference and it cuts him to the bone. "And I'm still in love with you. I wouldn't cheat on you."

"You've barely spoken to me," she retorts.

"What are you talking about? I talk to you all day," he replies.

She sighs. He catches her twisting her ring around her finger and he absently wonders if this is something she does often. After 4 years of marriage, he thought she'd be used to it by now.

"You tell me the things you need from me at work, but when we get home we're basically living in silence. You barely even touch me," she replies. He takes a half step back like he fears she's going to lash out at him when he knows that she wouldn't. He thought they were doing fine. "And I know you, Harvey. If you're not touching me then you're touching _someone_."

He laughs bitterly. "Myself. I've been touching myself. I'm with you all day, Donna. If I were having an affair, you would notice. It isn't even possible to compare what happened with us to any other situation because you're everything I've ever wanted."

He takes a step towards her. He reaches out to touch her, to comfort her in some way, but she won't let him. Even though she isn't looking at him, she anticipates him. She catches his hand and pushes it away.

"Don't," she instructs.

He sighs. "I told you this was going to happen if we tried to have a baby, Donna. I told you that there would be so much pressure to have sex that it would take everything that we enjoyed about it out of it. I didn't want it to be like this. I just wanted us to be us. You don't even want to have sex anymore unless there's a possibility that you'll get pregnant. I don't even try anymore. But just because you're not putting out that doesn't mean that I'd cheat on you."

"But that's just it, Harvey. We _are_ having sex," she argues.

"It isn't the same," he snaps. He shakes his head and scrubs at the back of his neck. He doesn't want to look at her because he knows that he'll see the most devastating look on her face that he's ever seen before. "Our sex is calculated and meticulous. The only purpose for even doing it is to make a baby and it's not working. Our entire life has become about a baby that we can't even have."

"It's been a year, Harvey," she says. He can see it in her demeanor that she is moments away from breaking down. She won't push him away again if he tries to touch her, he knows that, but he doesn't want to take advantage of her vulnerability. She casts redrimmed eyes in his direction and a lump gathers in his throat upon her gaze. "Why hasn't it happened yet? Why haven't we had a baby yet?"

"I don't know," he mutters. He reaches out for her as the tears threaten to fall down her cheeks. His hand touches her shoulder and slides across her back as she falls into him, grasping at the lapels of his suit jacket. "Maybe we waited too long. Maybe we just weren't supposed to have any more kids, but I don't want this to ruin us. I love you. I need you. There are other ways to have kids."

The tears slide down her cheeks and he brushes them away. He can't get rid of them fast enough; her cheeks are wet, her lips are pursed, and she is clinging to him out of desperation. He can't even figure out what he should say. He's almost afraid that it's too late, that they can't even fix this anymore.

"I just want you," he tries again. "I'm happy with what we have - you, me, Lyn - I'm happy."

"You're not happy," she counters. He sighs and hangs his head, eyes drifting closed because she's right. He isn't happy but neither is she. He thinks that may be what makes him the unhappiest.

He swallows and slides his hands through her hair. The ringlets of her hair wrap around his fingers. The stress of the day has blown her hair out a little more and he wonders if maybe she tried to go to bed before he'd even gotten home just to avoid him.

He expels a breath. "No, but that isn't your fault. All I wanted was to make you happy but this baby thing has made you so unhappy that I can't fix it. I would have been content with just the three of us, I really would have, but you wanted a baby and I wanted to give you one. I haven't been able to do that, Donna, and that upsets me a lot but what upsets me even more is that in this whole thing, I've lost you."

"You haven't lost me," she denies. Her hands push up his chest and find his jaw, fingers pressing into his skin in an attempt to direct his attention to her. Their eyes lock and for a moment he wonders if there's any truth to that at all. "I just," she trails off because she doesn't really know how to finish her thought.

"You wanted a baby more than you wanted me," he says with resignation.

She shakes her head, another tear slipping over the brim of her eyelid, "that's just not true. I wanted you. I _want_ you. I'm so afraid that this has driven us so far apart that you'd cheat on me."

He smiles softly and shakes his head one time. "I'm not cheating on you. I just don't feel like I can come home because I'm sad. I wanted a baby, too. I don't know if you knew that but I wanted one, and not just because you did."

"I was pregnant," she blurts, tears splashing onto the surface of the countertop. He almost can't take it, the way that her tears are the only thing he can see.

He swallows and nods carefully. "I know," he replies, barely audible. His voice a whisper that carries into her ears. A shiver skates down her spine. "I haven't known what to say to you because you didn't tell me. I just happened to find out, and it hurt me."

Her eyes fall to the stem of her glass like she needs to focus on something other than him. She doesn't even have the energy to look him in the eye. "Today was the due date."

He swallows. "I didn't know that."

"We waited too long," she says softly. She almost doesn't notice a tear slipping out of his eye and leaving a trail on his cheek. She almost misses it completely. She's instantly upset with herself because she just hasn't been seeing him when he used to be the only thing she'd be able to see. She swallows as the base of her fingers form around his jaw. "I waited too long. It's my fault. I'm too old."

"It's no one's fault," he insists, "it's just how it worked out. We got one really great kid in and that's more than enough for me. I just, I want you more than I want a baby."

"I don't know why I allowed myself to get my hopes up so much," she sighs, "I should have let the idea go a long time ago. I shouldn't have-"

"Donna," he interjects, "stop. It isn't your fault. There isn't anything that you could have done differently."

"I'm sorry," she replies. It's so quiet that he can barely hear her. Her hands leave him as she turns back to the countertop for support. He's saddened by the way she's seeking something other than him for comfort. He retracts his hands from her, his fingers tapping the air around her like he's trying to get her to let him back in. "I was so delusional and I thought, for some stupid reason, that this would work."

"No, hey," he stutters. He crouches and hooks an index finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him again. She can barely look at him. It makes his bones ache. "I love you. There's no reason that it was stupid to think we could have a baby. It wasn't stupid to believe that. I believed that, too. I just miss my best friend - I miss you. I want to be us again."

She looks at him, tiredly, with tears blurring her vision. He doesn't even look like a person anymore. He's just a figure in front of her. Her tear filled eyes make him something right in front of her that she can't even see. _How fitting_.

She kisses him. Her mouth touches his so softly, so carelessly, that she isn't even sure that it's actually his lips beneath hers. His lips are her comfort, the reminder that she needs so she doesn't forget that he's there. He's always there.

His fingertips etch along her jaw line before disappearing into her hair. "I miss you, too," she says against his mouth. Her tear falls onto his bottom lip, the saltiness of it making him suck in a deep breath. He swallows and his eyes drift closed.

Her words stick to his lips, echo in his head as his other hand lifts to her cheek to brush away her tears. Almost as though he is anticipating her, his lips part as she closes the space between them again. Her mouth finds his again and he feels like he's going to crumble. He can't take all of this anymore. She's so close yet so far away. He thought they were past this.

The way that she kisses him is desperate and urgent. Her hands slide down his chest, push around his waist beneath his suit jacket, pull him towards her by the muscles along his back. His muscles spasm beneath her fingers like he's unfamiliar to her touch. His hips press into hers. She aches for him, for him to just touch her again.

It starts slow at first. His hands slide down her arms and linger at the curves of her elbows for just a moment like he's waiting for an invitation. Of course he gets one in the form of movement, in the form of her jutting her torso into his touch. He can't tell if his fingers are brushing over her rib cage or her breasts because he's so distracted by the way her tongue flits against his.

His breath catches in his throat as her fingers smooth across his waistline. Her nails scratch at his skin through the layers of his clothing (the vest, the dress shirt, the undershirt) before finding the button holding his pants around his waist. His tongue flits against hers, presses against her teeth as his hand slips beneath the slight opening in her robe and he discovers that she isn't wearing anything underneath. His thumb ever so slightly brushes over her ribs, just below her breast, and it makes her moan into his mouth.

He isn't even sure anymore if it's her tears leaving stains on his cheeks or if it's his own, but he can't even bother to analyze why he's shaking when she's tugging on him so hard. The button on his pants nearly pop off and the rather silent condo echoes with the sound of his zipper. She sucks on his tongue, or he sucks on hers (he doesn't really know the difference at the moment), and it stifles the noise that would inevitably fall out of both of their mouths as she wraps her legs around his hips. Before he even knows how it's possible, his dick is plunged into her, a throb beating against it.

His hands brace her, one arm hidden as it slides around to the small of her back and subsequently pushes her robe open more. The other hand has smoothed over the silk material, pressing hard into his forearm through the fabric. Her right arm steadies around his neck as the fingers of her left hand press into his jaw line. She has to pull her mouth from his to catch her breath.

Their breath entwines in the space between them. Her torso is pressed against his, her chest rising and falling so rapidly that for a moment, he thinks she might pass out. But her hips roll just slightly, enough to bring him to life and drive him into action. His hips thrust, meeting her movement, and it's slow like neither of them want to go too fast. She clings to him and his skin turns white beneath her grasp.

His lips part as they find her neck. It isn't really a kiss, but more like a comfort - like he needs to feel her skin against his mouth. His breath is hot on her throat. It toys with her - makes her forget everything that hasn't quite been right between them. She moans softly right in his ear, directly into it as she rocks against him. He blanks for a moment as he squeezes his eyes shut tight, the taste of her skin ghosting his lips.

Her nails dig into his shoulder, silently pleading with him to keep a tight hold on her. He pants against her throat. She breathes heavily against his cheek. She can feel the heat rising in her stomach and he kisses the exposed skin of her neck. She feels tingles in her fingertips. He kisses her mouth again, just briefly, just long enough for her to feel him be there as he thrusts in and out of her so slowly that she wants to scream but she knows she can't.

He bites on her bottom lip, gently tugs on it as he cums. There is part of her that relishes in the way that his tongue sweeps over the inside of her lip, as though he aches to taste her. He feels her muscles clinch around him and it echoes throughout him like an old familiar song that he hasn't heard in a while.

Everything suddenly slows to a standstill as she reaches for his hand.

Her hand traces the lines of his face. "Hello, Stranger," she whispers.

Her cheeks are tear stained, hair is a mess - at least the smile looks genuine - but he can't stop looking at her. He brushes his index finger through her disarrayed hair, tucking some of it behind her ear. He swallows thickly. "Hey, there you are."

And he thinks that maybe this is what starting over looks like.


End file.
